


From The Ashes A Phoenix Was Born

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-08-13
Updated: 2004-08-13
Packaged: 2019-05-15 03:41:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14782944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: She once told Josh that he waited for women to crash into him. It's funny how life works out sometimes.





	From The Ashes A Phoenix Was Born

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

**From The Ashes A Phoenix Was Born**

**by:** Anjali

**Character(s):** Charlie, Donna  
**Pairing(s):** Charlie/Donna  
**Category(s):** Romance, I guess  
**Rating:** MATURE for a brief sex scene  
**Disclaimer:** Hi. I own a bike. If you want, you can have it.  
**Summary:** She once told Josh that he waited for women to crash into him. It’s funny how life works out sometimes.  
**Author's Note:** Um. Yeah. This is my first attempt at a sex scene. Be nice. Written for helsinkibaby from the Charlie ficathon on lj, who requested Charlie/Donna and dancing. 

It isn’t intentional. In fact, if you had asked them a month, a week, even a day before, they both would have looked at you quizzically before dismissing you as an idiot and continuing briskly through the hallways of the White House. But there it is. Donna is flush against the wall, head back, skirt hitched up, one thigh held firmly in Charlie’s hand as he presses against her. He kisses the skin underneath her chin and her face, lips parted, is a picture of oblivion. Donna reaches down and squeezes and then Charlie grabs her other leg, hoisting her up roughly. He runs his fingers all the way up the inside of her thigh and beyond and she braces herself against his shoulders, her breath coming in gasps. And so on. 

  
How did it come to this? Well. Let me tell you.   
  


  
They are all having a bad week. This actually isn’t much of a shock. The days and months since the President’s MS broke have all been a string of bad weeks, one right after another. This is different from Rosslyn, Charlie thinks. Then, it was the West Wing against the obvious bad guys. Then, they had been a team, a collective victim, and there was a clearly defined area between black and white. 

 

This time, the grey surprise came from one of their own. No, not even one of their own. Their leader. And according to the system, you don’t unite and fight against your leader. You leave. 

  
That is one thing Charlie can never do. It’s different for the Senior Staff, who see in Bartlet the ability to enlighten the world. They love the man, but they love the mind even more. They stay because he represents an intellectual ideal. If they leave, it is because they have been betrayed by the mind. If Charlie leaves, he knows it would be taken as an indication of Bartlet himself. 

  
He is sitting at his desk, typing an email and mentally counting down the minutes until Bartlet actually reads his daily schedule and throws a hissy fit. He spares a wistful glance at Mrs. Landingham’s desk, remembering the woman and simultaneously shuddering at the knowledge that he will soon have to begin the search for a new Executive Secretary. But first he has to convince the President. He hears Leo’s door open, and then Josh and Sam’s voices arguing in contention, with CJ’s amused commentary running underneath.   
  


Ah. They’re done. Charlie types faster, knowing that in a few moments— 

  
“Charlie!” 

  
There it is. 

  
He pushes “Send” and walks into the Oval Office. The President is leaning against his desk, glowering down at a piece of paper. Leo comes in and motions for Charlie to close the door. 

  
“What the hell is this?” their president barks. 

  
“Sir, I think it’s time…” Leo begins. 

  
“I don’t want another secretary!” 

  
“But sir—” 

  
“No, Leo, I don’t want it. It’s not right. How long has it even been?” 

 

“Ten months, twelve days and eleven hours, give or take a bit,” Charlie says calmly. “I think, sir, that Mrs. Landingham would understand.”

 

“You do.”

 

“Yes, sir. This office was crazy even before… _she_ out of anybody would understand what it takes to run it.”

“Charlie’s overworked as it is,” Leo says. “You can’t expect him to do both his job and the Executive Secretary’s competently.”

Bartlet’s stuck, and he knows it. As much as he hates the idea, to complain now would be childish. “What do I have to do?” he asks, resigned, and Charlie smiles gently.

“Donna!” 

  
Her head jerks up reflexively. “Dammit!” 

  
“Donna! Where’s the memo on…why are you sitting on the floor?” Josh leans against the doorframe and stares at his assistant. She glares at him, rubbing her head. 

  
“I think I kicked a cable or something. My internet isn’t working, so I was under the desk looking at the connections, and then you screeched at me and I hit my head.” 

  
“Are you—I do not screech,” Josh says indignantly. 

  
“Josh, wild monkeys, when they’re teaching their young how to call for help, show their kids pictures of you and say, ‘this is the guy you should sound like.’” Donna gets up wearily. 

  
“Wild monkeys? Donna, are you sure you don’t have, you know, a concussion or something?” He is concerned, but mostly amused. She contemplates hurling a stapler at him. 

  
“Here’s the memo. You have a meeting on the Hill in a half an hour, and you can’t be late.” 

  
“My watch says it’s only quarter till.” 

  
“Your watch—” 

  
“Sucks, yeah, I know.” He frowns down at his wrist, and falls back against the glass partition as Donna brushes by. “Hey! Where are you going?” 

  
“To get aspirin. And coffee.” 

  
“Will you…?” 

  
“No, Josh.” 

In the basement she passes by an open door and sees Charlie looking despondent. She pokes her head in and raises an eyebrow at the open file cabinets. 

  
“That’s a lot of files.” 

  
“I know,” Charlie says stoically. 

  
“Why are you looking at the personnel files?” 

  
“We’re starting the search for the new Executive Secretary, and I already have a few ideas, but the President wants to go through all of the applications personally.” 

  
“Oh dear,” Donna says sympathetically. 

  
“Yeah. And these don’t even include the FBI background checks. That’s a whole other file cabinet.” 

  
“And the President wants to do this personally.” 

  
Charlie nods. “But after the first five he’ll either get bored or have to go to the Sit Room or something, so I’m thinking I can just go around his back and present the most suitable ones to him later.” 

  
Donna gives him a comradely grin as she leaves. After all, they’re both experts at managing people, especially their bosses. 

Charlie normally allots himself an hour a day to the secretary search. It’s not nearly enough time, but with the reelection campaign gearing up on top of all his regular work, an hour is all he can afford. 

  
Today is different. It’s early morning and he’s sitting in Air Force One, flipping through papers in a file as he absently keeps an ear tuned to his surroundings. The President is in his office talking on the phone to Leo about the treaty negotiations, which reminds Charlie that he needs to check the schedule just in case an emergency trip should come up. He can sometimes hear snatches of conversation between Toby and Sam as they both hyperventilate over the President’s speech tonight in Chicago. CJ is probably off needling the press corps, who are disgruntled about having to arrive at the White House two hours before takeoff to go through security. 

  
He looks up and smiles as Donna plops down in the seat across from him, clutching a cell phone and several large binders that threaten to spill out at any moment. He jerks his chin toward the stuff in her lap. 

  
“Josh?” 

  
“He’s on a time out,” she says matter-of-factly. “He’s driving me nuts about the tariff thing. Toby and Sam are still talking about the speech, which means that I’m the only one around to rant to.” 

  
“Hey, just keep him away from the President. I have better things to do than listen to an economist talk about tariffs and free trade.” 

  
She laughs knowingly, then asks, “Do you think he’s gonna make us go back tonight? After the reception?” 

  
Charlie shakes his head. “Dr. Bartlet told him that he’s not allowed. She says we can afford to lose two hours in the air tomorrow if it means that he’ll sleep tonight.” 

  
“He agreed to that?” 

  
“Well, no, but she’s got Leo on her side.” 

  
CJ walks past, sporting a Cubs hat. 

  
“CJ! I didn’t know you liked the Cubs,” Donna calls. 

  
CJ stops, looking pained. “I’m from Ohio. Do you _really_ think I’m a Cubs fan?” 

  
“Everybody is a Cubs fan,” Charlie says reasonably. “It’s the least we can do.” 

  
“Well, _I’m_ not. This is just punishment.” She jerks her thump towards the press section. 

  
“Ah,” Charlie and Donna say in unison as CJ walks on. 

  
Donna glances at her watch. “I’ll give him a few more minutes. How’s the secretary search going?” 

  
Charlie sighs. “As well as can be expected.” 

  
“He hates every candidate, right?” 

  
“Yeah. But I only gave him the applications that we weren’t really considering anyway. Now he’s too busy to reject any more.” 

  
Donna grins and stands up, squaring her shoulders. “Well, here we go again.”   
  


  
He’s standing in front of the mirror in his hotel room, futzing with his tie. In a few moments he has to go to the President before they leave for the motorcade. It’s at times like this, quiet, away from the bustle of the White House, when he gets a sudden, surreal rush of dizziness at the turn his life has taken. Three years ago he didn’t even own a tuxedo. The cheap-ass suite he wore to his prom doesn’t even come close to the sleek black-and-white that’s reflected back at him. He still can’t tie the damn bow though. 

 

Charlie gives up and goes in search of help, consciously avoiding the President’s suites. The first and last time he’d had Bartlet tie his bow, the man had taken advantage of Charlie’s momentary paralysis to lecture him on the 1893 World Fair. 

  
CJ’s putting on her earrings when Charlie knocks on the doorframe. She turns, eyeing his suite critically. 

  
“Looking good, Chucky.” She crosses the room and begins tying the bow without asking. 

  
“Don’t call me Chucky,” he says, and lets out a yelp of protest when she tugs a little tighter than necessary. 

  
“Whatever, Chazz.” She steps back and studies him. “You look tired. I’m not going to ask you if you’re getting enough sleep.”

 

He snorts. “First year med students get more sleep than I do.”

 

Donna walks out of the bathroom and twirls. “How do I look?”

 

“For the record, that’s a question neither of you ever have to ask.” CJ and Donna both beam at him, and he offers each an arm. “Ladies?”

 

The Secret Service agent at the door nods at them as they enter. Toby and Sam are hovering near the President. Toby’s stabbing at several sheets of paper with a pen and Sam looks irritated. As far as Charlie can tell, Bartlet is doing a magnificent job of ignoring them both. Josh is in the corner on his cell phone, and he motions urgently to Donna as soon as he sees her.

 

“What’s up?”

 

“Hawkins jumped the fence.”

 

“So? I thought you had enough votes for a clear margin.”

 

“We do.” He’s annoyed. “But I wanna know why he jumped the fence. I can’t get through to him. What’s that magic thing you do, where you get people to talk to me?”

 

“I bribe them?”

 

“Donna…”

 

“Give me that.” She grabs his cell phone.

 

Across the room, Charlie joins the President as Toby shouts, “It’s not a non-issue, Sam! I know what a non-issue is and if this _was_ a non-issue my veins wouldn’t be popping out of my forehead like a crazy man!”

 

“And I’m guessing your face wouldn’t be beet red either,” CJ interjects. “Actually, Tobus, that’s quite a good color on you. Contrasts nicely with your hair.”

 

Bartlet leans over to Charlie. “ _And_ it’s a non-issue,” he whispers. 

 

Charlie grins.

 

“So, what do I have in store tonight, Charlie? A relaxing night full of fun?”

 

“Not if Toby has anything to do with it, sir,” Charlie answers, falling in beside his president as they walk out the door.

 

“Oh, indeed. And on top of Toby we get to socialize with several of the DNC chairs who are quite pissed off at me right now, and let’s not forget Mayor Roger Darnley.”

 

“Actually sir, the current mayor of Chicago is Henry Darnley,” Charlie says. “Roger Darnley was his father.”

 

“But they both were and are mayors of Chicago.”

 

“As was Roger’s father, and his father’s father, and his father’s father’s father…”

“Now, Charlie, do I detect sarcasm?”

 

“No, sir,” Charlie deadpans.

 

Bartlet grins amiably at him. “Never let it be said that nepotism is dead. You gotta love American politics.”

 

“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be here, sir.”

 

“I thought you wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t owned a bike.”

 

Charlie frowns at the double negatives and says, “Well, Mr. President, I’m still waiting to hear about that messenger job. If you find out about any openings…”

 

“I’ll be sure to let you know, Charlie,” the President finishes.

 

Toby and Sam catch up to them at the motorcade. “Mr. President…” Toby begins.

 

“Yeah, I’ve thought about it. Let’s just cut the entire section and be done with it, shall we?”

 

“Cut the entire section…” Toby falters.

 

“I think he’s in shock,” CJ says, poking Toby. Beside her, Sam looks forlornly down at the speech. Bartlet waves cheerfully to his staffers as Secret Service agents secure the limo. “See you at the thing!” he calls.

 

“That was mean,” Donna comments, sliding into a seat next to Josh.

 

“And the really sad thing is, Toby voted for him. Why is Hawkins visiting Minnesota next week if he’s from Ohio? Is there a thing we don’t know about going on in Minnesota? Does _anything_ ever go on in Minnesota?”

 

“His mother lives in Minnesota,” Donna says. “And no, nothing ever happens there.”

 

Josh smirks. “You’re from Wisconsin. You’re biased.”

 

“You wouldn’t understand. Connecticut is too small and insignificant to have any intra-state rivalries,” Donna replies.

 

“Donna. I repeat: you’re from _Wisconsin._ ”

“And without us, the nation’s ice cream supply would be sadly lacking.”

“Hey, how did you know where his mother lives?” Josh asks, forgoing, for once, more opportunities to make fun of the Midwest.

 

“I know things Josh, mysterious things, which allow me to do my job of making you look good.”

 

“And what a fine job you do.”

 

“Damn right.”

 

 

There’s a reception at the Drake afterwards. By this time, Toby has unbent enough to be gracious to all the people who talk to him about the speech (and the three glasses of champagne CJ pressed on him help quite a bit). Charlie’s only had half a glass, not nearly enough to go to his head. He stands back and watches people instead. 

He always loves formal receptions, even though they are a pain and make the President grumpy before and afterwards. But during them…Bartlet is a born performer, and most of his Senior Staff can match him. CJ is the brightest out of all of them, and when Dr. Bartlet isn’t there she becomes the natural counterpoint to the President’s aura, glittering like all the Hollywood stars she pretends she used to represent. They’re standing on opposite sides of the room, Bartlet holding court with Josh amidst all the DNC chairs who supposedly hate him right now, CJ at the other end, entertaining some of Chicago’s more illustrious citizens. Her laughter peals off the ceiling, enveloping them all. 

Josh and Toby don’t glitter, he thinks, not like CJ or the President. But they give off a sort of energy (repressed, in Toby’s case) that draws people to them and commands esteem, if not love. There are many people in the world who do not like either Josh or Toby. But everyone respects them, and no one underestimates them. 

Charlie looks around and sees Sam and Donna making their way through the crowd, Sam leading, beaming, Donna trailing behind him. Those two also sparkle, in a way that doesn’t immediately catch your attention, but once you notice, the eyes linger. Sam, with his boyish good looks and self-effacing manner, charms everyone without being a mountebank, and Charlie recognizes that in a few more years, when Sam has earned a little more experience and gotten a few more lines on his face, he has the potential to be another Bartlet. Right now, the shine has only started to come off the penny, but the President has faith in him. So Charlie has faith. 

Donna’s a little different. Even though she’s about five or six years older than Charlie, to him she’s always seemed a little innocent. Five years in the White House, and at events like these, you can tell that she still sometime has to stop fighting the urge to pinch herself. She’s beautiful, yes, but her sparkle comes from the fact that she has no idea how she looks to other people, and her innate good nature, mixed with self-consciousness comes through. It’s hard not to like Donna.

“Chuckles.”

Charlie starts, and wonders how CJ managed to sneak up on him. 

“Dance with me, Sparky.”

“I thought Sam was Sparky,” Charlie says. She lets him take her hand and lead her to the dance floor.

“Tonight, you’re all Sparky.” He realizes that she’s rather tipsy, and makes a mental note to watch her more closely.

Barefoot, Charlie and CJ are of a height, but tonight she’s wearing heels, and he looks up at her. This isn’t, of course, anything new to her, as she works for “two of the shortest men in power since Napoleon.”

Her words, not his.

Charlie likes dancing. Well, at least he likes dancing with women. There was that one time before Charlie’s first major dress event, when the President tried to teach him how to waltz in the Oval Office and succeeded only in embarrassing them both when Leo came in unexpectedly with Admiral Fitzwallace. It had taken Charlie four months to be able to look the Chairman in the eye again. And also, Bartlet had been leading, so in the end, Charlie was just a mortified kid who danced like a girl. He doesn’t really like to think about it.

Anyways.

He dances with CJ and he dances with Donna and he prevents the President from requesting a foxtrot, and in between all of this he listens to many conversations with Sam and Toby and Josh and various Important People about the economy and politics and social reform and sometimes, people will ask his opinion, and he thinks carefully before answering. This is something he’s always done, but he’d never noticed until two years ago when Mrs. Landingham brings it to his attention.

Finally, it’s time to go back to the hotel, and he calls ahead (even though he knows Ron has probably already done it) and then waits until the President is settled before walking to his room. He meets Donna coming out of Josh’s room looking exhausted, her heels in one hand.

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself. Had a good night?”

She wipes a finger under one eye and frowns at the makeup smudge. “Pretty good. I can’t believe we have to get up at four tomorrow.”

Charlie shrugs: they’re both used to long days. “The President wanted to be back by seven at the latest.”

“Yeah. I think it went okay, don’t you? I’m glad we went at least. It was nice…to get away…”

Charlie nods. He knows what she means. She smiles and squeezes his shoulder before disappearing into her room.

After that, it is back to the daily grind. Congress continues to be mildly hostile, the American people continue to be persnickety, and at the White House, blood pressures rise. The staffers find it increasingly difficult to believe that Governor Ritchie could pose an actual threat to Bartlet, and have to take turns restraining one another from openly mocking the man. It’s more difficult for some people than others. 

  
Josh goes to breakfast with several high ranking Republicans, and since he knows they’ll be smug about Ritchie’s early numbers, he takes Donna with him. When they come back, she looks strained, and he’s limping. 

  
“What happened?” Toby asks. 

  
“Donna kicked me! In the shin. _Many times!”_ Josh glares at his assistant, who glares back. 

  
“Joshua, I honestly don’t know how you’ve made it this far in politics,” Donna says. “You couldn’t have sucked it up just once and not risen to the bait?” 

  
“That’s why I brought you,” Josh says sullenly. 

  
“Hey Josh. When Donna wasn’t…kicking you, did you, you know, actually talk about the thing you were supposed to be talking about?” Toby growls. 

  
“Oh yeah…well, Cooper said…” They walk off together and Donna sits down at her desk with a thump. 

 

  
In the old days, they all would have relieved tension with banter or practical jokes, but tonight Charlie is too tired to care. He and the President have spent the last few days interviewing prospective secretaries, and at the rate they’re going, there just _might_ be a new Executive Secretary in time for Bartlet’s last year in office. That’s assuming that the man gets re-elected, which is just a whole other issue altogether. 

The President is in the Residence with Dr. Bartlet, and Charlie has been told to go home. But Deena’s gone on a class retreat and Charlie knows he won’t get another chance to catch up on stuff, so he forces himself to go downstairs and recheck the personnel files one last time. He’s stressed and wired and thinks that he probably wouldn’t have slept anyways, but it’s too late to go for a run and he doesn’t like the gym and so he tries to channel the excess energy into work. He’s been there for maybe a half an hour, getting antsier and antsier, when Donna breezes by. She catches sight of him through the open doorway and calls, “Personnel again?”

“Trying,” he says. “I’m sort of losing focus. What are you still doing here?”

She scowls and paces restlessly into the room. “I have to stay and finish up this thing for Josh. Of course, he got to go meet up with _Amy_.”

“Ah,” he says. 

Her hair is coming down and her blouse is wrinkled. She tilts her head to the side and crinkles her nose. “What? Do I have something on my face?”

Charlie laughs lightly. “No. I was just…”

He remembers reading a line somewhere, about how two people will sometimes regard each other over gulf too wide to be bridged, and know exactly what could have happened, and that it never will. But sometimes people look up at just the right moment and see something that they _could_ have. The air in the room changes, and he watches Donna really notice him for the first time. Her lips part slightly.

Charlie knows that if he says anything or starts thinking about the situation or expectations or whatever that the moment will be over. He realizes, with a start of silent surprise, that he doesn’t want it to be over. 

He stops thinking and reaches for her.

_-16 April 2004, Chicago._


End file.
